Never Mind the Bollocks; Here's the Met Ball!

So the Sex Pistols used a comma instead of a semi colon there; permit me a bit of prim with my punk.

I am getting ready to watch the arrivals to the Met Ball (or the Costume Institute ball) on MetMedia here. And one eye is on my 7-year-old son, who needs this computer to finish a PowerPoint on Narwal whales for tomorrow.  Oh dear.  At least they have a spiky horn, which makes them the original punk whales.

A little research turned up the above photo from the Met exhibit, which, everyone will know, features the safety-pin that a youthfully ripe Elizabeth Hurley made famous.  But is it punk?  I'm not sure that a safety pin (or a dozen) immediately marks a garment as such. 

Ahh; I hear the crowd and hosts Hilary Rhoda and Billy Norwich; do excuse me while I'm off to the Ball.

God Save the Preen: Dressing for the Met Ball

I've been reading with bemusement about frustrated fashionable ladies (along with a fashion writer or two) who cannot fathom how to dress for tomorrow's Costume Institute Ball at the Met: Punk: Chaos to Couture.

In a NYT article linked above, Cameron Silver, owner of the LA-based vintage shop Decades, said: “Not that many women want to look like Nancy Spungen.”

For the record, Nancy Spungen had her sartorial limits too.  In a scene from the film Sid and Nancy, she shoves on Sid's mother's clothes and storms out of the house after a violent confrontation.  When she sees her image reflected in a window, she gazes upon herself in horror and shrieks, "AGGHH!!  Siiid!  I look like F*$#^@% Stevie Nicks in hippie clothes!"

But back to the Met.  If I were going, I'd wear the Alexander McQueen confection above.  I'd ask Philip Treacy to make me a headpiece, perhaps something resembling a crown fashioned from wire and royal blue silk, which I'd wear atop my bird's-nest-inspired topknot. Easy peasy, right?

And just a note about the title of this post: probably all my gentle readers know that it refers to the 1977 song "God Save the Queen," screeched by the Sex Pistols during the year of Queen Elizabeth's silver jubilee.

Maybe my title's a tad irreverent, but someone's gotta celebrate the "pun" in "punk."

See you after the ball.

Goddess Dressing

When I moved to the States in 1990, Mr. C (who was then just Mr.) told me about the J Crew catalogue, which was a hit with his New York-y set on the east coast. I remember being quite underwhelmed by the presentation of the catalogue, which didn't feature photos of models in clothing, just rather uninspired pictures of individual garments.

Nevertheless, I bought three items: a flax linen pencil skirt (with a curious elastic waist?  Hello 1990.); a matching tailored blazer; and a flax linen goddess dress--an almost-floor length sleeveless wrap dress with a deep V and looong ties that could wrap forever for a Greek goddess effect.

I wore the dress a couple of times and then tucked it away for, oh 21 years.

This morning I was rummaging around in my closet and found it (along with the dress I wore on my first date with Mr.[not-yet-C]) and felt it might be perfect for this humid day.  So goddess dress it is. And very sparkly flat sandals.  And hair up. Am focusing on floating too (I know not how a goddess goes.).

Other favourite goddess dresses are anything from the early collections of Romeo Gigli, whose clothes are featured throughout this post.

That Magical Red Dress

The "Stop Staring!" red dress by Billion Dollar Baby continues its TV dominance as Voice contestant Sasha Allen wows the crowd with her singing AND her chic.

That sounded very press-release-y, which this post is not, but something about That Red Dress makes people gush with excitement.

We first saw it when Nigella wore it in promos for her new cooking competition (looking unsettling like Liz Hurley in this magazine shot):

And more like herself here:

The dress fits women with curves, which is why I'd say it failed when New Girl Zooey Deschanel wore it:

It comes in other colors, like pink and elegant navy, but red is the showstopper:

Wild Horses and the Caves of Grand Central

Maybe Grand Central doesn't *really* look like its arches lead into caves, but a Cave is making a stunning impact on the terminal.

Nick Cave, the artist I most recently admired for his splash of turquoise (!), has fashioned a gorgeous team of thirty horses to visit and perform in Grand Central from today (March 25) through March 31.

The turquoise on Mr. Cave's shoulders thrilled me.

These dancing ponies express themselves so well:

Puffy Paper Wigs and Moncler Puffers

 Not the most poetic title, but nevertheless, it speaks to two of my favourite things: paper-cut wigs and puffers from Moncler.

But of course summer wear doesn not include puffers, so Moncler has substituted puffy textures instead.

The wigs are from Salk and Flurry, and are, I think, irresistible (they rival my beloved Chanel paper flower headpieces).

I thought I'd put them together to see what happens:

 

S'trooth, Chartreuse

Well, yes I am copyediting a Shakespeare play, as if the antiquated term in the post title didn't give it away already.

But more than a means of showing off, it captures my current feelings for the colour chartreuse.  The other day I was browsing through the massive book The Editor's Eye and found a black-and-white photo of a voluminous dress (from the back) that I loved because of how the photo highlighted the drape of the fabric.

One of my long-term goals is to make dresses--not to wear, but to hang on my walls--and the dress in this photo would be a good candidate.  It reminded me of a dress from a Vogue magazine published in what I believe to be the early 90s--the photo was an intense close-up of some beautifully draped chartreuse fabric that was, if I recall, a Grecian-inspired dress.  As I didn't keep a clippings folder back in the day, the photo remains in my memory, and I mean to locate it, with a good long library visit one week.

Chartreuse is one of those colours that's difficult to wear: the shade has to be Just Right for one's skin else we look frightfully sallow.  But when it's on, it's on.  This dress by John Galliano worn by Nicole Kidman is not my favourite, but it's received lots of critical acclaim.

However, this dress by Jason Wu, worn with these ultra violet shoes, is my cup of tea.  And the dress in the 1961 Bert Stern photo, far above, just calls out for a cocktail.  A martini, perhaps?  S'trooth, not shaken?